


And So I Want

by saltandlimes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blood, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gore, Guro, I just really wanted to write this, Knifeplay, M/M, Vivisection, and it's totally consensual, but it's kinda fluffy too, if that's possible, they both enjoy things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7193978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux has wanted this for so long, wanted to feel closer, to touch deeper. And somehow, Kylo finds out. And now he's laid out on a table, panting for Hux.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And So I Want

**Author's Note:**

> So I really wanted to write another guro fic. And then the very amazing [@tashacho](http://tashacho.tumblr.com/) posted an incredible piece of art on tumblr and I had my inspiration. 
> 
> Find the pic [here](http://froggykay.tumblr.com/post/145860168266/tashacho-the-devils-in-the-details-dedicated) (note: it is very NSFW)

Unlimited access to bacta. It's one of the best things about being a general. That, and no questions asked. And a room, clean and cold, white walls gleaming. And that's what Hux has waiting for him at the end of this interminable shift. 

And Ren inside, panting. 

Hux isn't quite sure how this all started. It might have been a stray fantasy, a passing thought that Ren plucked from his mind. Or maybe it was after Starkiller, holding Ren together as Hux dragged him through the snow to the waiting shuttle. Hux can feel his face flush, stares harder at the datapad in his hand as he remembers. Because he hadn't been able to tear his eyes away, had knelt at Ren's side, stared as his belt was cut off. And Hux's fingers were slick where he rubbed them together, biting at his own lips as he wondered at the ragged edges the bowcaster left. 

And he knows what he wondered. Know how he'd imagined what it would feel like to reach inside, what it would be like to stroke across all that red rawness. To push his fingers inside and just feel. 

But it had all been idle fantasy, thoughts that flitted across his mind before being pushed aside. Hux knows, has known for a long time, how to put them away for later, to be poured over in the night's dark. But somehow Ren knows them all. 

And now this.

A meeting, carefully arranged, prepared for. Ren panting, harsh and loud, as Hux whispered what he would do. And supplies ordered, arranged. Hux's hand shakes on the datapad. Only five more minutes.

His footsteps are loud, echoing off Finalizer's polished floors as he makes his way down the long corridors. Hux hold himself back, hands clasped tight behind himself, stalking past stormtroopers in just the measured pace he always uses. Because no one else needs to wonder, to know about this. 

And then he's there, pressing the release on the door. And he's stepping inside, and there is Ren, sitting on the low table. He's hunched a little, robes nowhere to be seen. Instead, he's in a thin training top, soft leggings. And he's perched like a child, long legs swinging beneath him. And Hux wants to scold him, to tell him to get down, but he can't fuck this up, can't give up this chance. 

Ren flushes when Hux steps inside, peers up through those long lashes at Hux. And he, he shivers too, hands shaking on the table as much as Hux's had on the datapad earlier. It's somehow reassuring, to know that Ren is as nervous about this as Hux himself is, as excited.

“I... didn't know how we'd start.” And Hux smirks. Ren, admitting not knowing something. It's terribly gratifying. But he doesn't laugh, only moves a little closer, looks at the rolling cart set next to the table. There's a set of bacta patches, heavy white not-quite cloth. And a sealant applicator, so much neater than the hemostat and suture kit Hux trained with so many years ago at the Academy. A set of disinfectant wipes. And then, next to all that, what Hux has been thinking over for the past long hours, what rattled through his mind as he paced the bridge. 

Gleaming bright, too sharp and thin, they're not surgical tools. No, these are knives Hux found years ago. They're his own collection, and he's ached to use them for so long. And they sparkle before him for just time enough that Ren clears his throat, obviously waiting for some sort of response. 

“Are you sure about this?” And Hux doesn't usually answer a question with another one, but he has to know. He can't do this otherwise. And Ren nods, nods so fast that Hux almost laughs at how eager he is. 

“Please, Hux. Don't make me ask again.” Hux nods too, knows that feeling. It's the tremble in his throat as he thinks of getting so close to having this, only to have to give it up again. So he steps closer, pushes the shirt off Ren's broad shoulders. Ren's skin trembles underneath his questing fingers, fluttering heartbeats that Hux can feel pulsing through him. His breath speeds up a little, echoing Ren's own. And then there's that wide expanse of pale skin, and Hux just need it. Needs to change it, to make it different, his, only his. (Not Snoke's, but something that belongs to him, to the _First Order_ with Hux at its helm.) 

“Pants off,” is all he says, though, steps back to stare as Ren pulls down trousers, silky underclothes. And then the knight is naked, flaccid cock small, thick thighs shuddering as he heaves himself back onto the table. Hux is tearing off his gloves in an instant, stripping off his own jacket in the same movement. And he knows his own body can't compare, feels a flush of worry at what Ren will think as he shrugs out of his own undershirt. His stomach too soft, his ribs too prominent. But that slips away, slips out of mind as Ren raises himself up on one arm, beckons Hux closer. 

“If I pass out, wake me up, Hux. Please. I want to feel this.” And Hux nods. He doesn't think Ren will faint, has seen the knight staggering through the snow with his intestines held inside by a wide leather belt. This will not be that bad. He doesn't think it will. 

“Don't worry, Ren. I want you awake.” Ren grimaces. 

“Kylo. It's Kylo, Hux.” And Hux shrugs. It would be unforgivably informal but... _this_ might change those usual sorts of rules. Then he's moving a step closer, picking up a short narrow blade. It's sharp on only one side, a few inches of gleaming durasteel that Hux sometimes absently flips between his fingers as he does endless hours of paperwork.

It's his favorite. 

And so it's the one he's chosen for this, for the first line he inscribes down Ren's body. And Ren pants as Hux steps closer. His chest heaves. Hux smooths a soft hand across him, fingers catching on the curves and planes of Ren's abs. Then he's resting the knife lightly at the corner of a pec, just above a peaked nipple, wide and dark on Ren's bright skin. Ren nods, smiles at Hux, and Hux can feel his own face twisting, his lip between his teeth as he concentrates. 

The first slice of the knife feels better than he'd ever imagined. It's sharp, the smell of blood in his nose. And Kylo actually moans a little, pressing up, back arching. And Hux is drawing a diagonal line across Kylo's incredible body, bright blood welling up to run down the edge of the knife. A trickle wanders down across Kylo's nipple, darkening it even further. And Hux isn't sure what he wants, only that he wants _more_. 

The next cut is easier, a perfect perpendicular, an x across Kylo's chest. And Hux sets the knife aside, smears the center of the cuts so he can feel the slime he remembers, the sticky smudge of blood, liquid and cool on his fingers. Kylo is panting, biting his lip as he cranes his neck to look at Hux's cuts. Hux smiles down at him, smooths a bloody finger against Kylo's plump lips. Kylo whines a little, and Hux chuckles. But it isn't enough, not nearly, and he's picking up the smaller knife, double edged, deadly. 

A drop of sweat hangs in the hollow between Kylo's collarbones, and it coats the tip of the knife as Hux pushes it into Kylo's skin. There's a bubble of blood there now, just welling up. Suddenly, startlingly, Hux knows what he wants. Knows the shape he wants to draw across Kylo's skin, the lines he needs to inscribe.

The hexagon is quick, easy, but Kylo moans through it. It might be pain, but Hux thinks it's longing as well, pleasure. Not sexual, Kylo's cock still limp and soft against his thigh. But something more, and better, and Hux feels it too. And he whimpers a little at the sight, the symbol that's forming himself on Kylo's chest.

When it's finished, Kylo panting and sweating, groans all pain now, Hux smiles, eyes wild. Maybe the edges are ragged, the circle lopsided. But there it is, in red-brown, and Kylo is the First Order's, marked and sealed. 

Hux thinks the Order looks good on Kylo's skin. 

But it isn't enough, and Kylo is looking at him with longing eyes, needing, aching. And Hux licks at the mark of the Order, blood thick and hot on his tongue. The cuts are narrow, shallow. Hux wants more.

“Can I keep going?” And Hux tries to keep his voice from trembling, tries to will away the need. But he shouldn't have worried, have thought that Kylo wouldn't feel the same. Because Kylo moans again, bites his own lips and nods. 

“Please, please Hux. You told me you'd do more, you promised.” And it's incredible, to hear Kylo Ren, whirlwind of anger and death, begging him. Begging Hux, with his delicate fingers, soft arms, and jutting hips. But Hux is leaning over the table, picking up the larger knife, and he aches. And Kylo trembles as Hux rests the knife against his abs. 

Then he's pressing down, heavier, deeper. And the knife bites in, soft skin and taught muscle parting as Hux drags his hand downward. And Kylo's eyes roll up, breath going sharp and loud. Hux wonders what it feels like, his body parting to reveal the beauty bundled up inside. Kylo whimpers, and Hux realizes he's asked the question aloud. But Kylo doesn't answer, maybe can't, focusing on staying awake, present for this. 

Then the knife rests just above Kylo's cock. And Hux realizes he's panting too, fingers shaking as he lays the knife aside. He's wanted this so long, wanted to touch and stroke and feel, and now he has it, laid out in front of him in a trembling bloody man. Something shakes on the table, a rattle of metal, and Hux makes a shushing noise. Not now. Not when he's so close.

Kylo winces, gasps, and the rattling stops. The feel of the air too thick, burning with the Force, it fades away. And Hux reaches forward, feels at the sharp slice in Kylo's skin.

For a moment he imagines. He thinks of reaching inside, tugging, pulling. And ropes of Kylo's guts spilling out, piling on his stomach in a lush heap as Hux buries his hand inside. And Kylo smiling up at him, eyes bright with tears as Hux mounds soft organs, turns him inside out. The image is so strong that Hux thinks for a second he's done it, that Kylo's smiling up at him with blood on his face and body broken beyond repair. 

But then he blinks, comes back to himself. And his fingers are only just inside, only petting lightly at the broken edges of Kylo's body. But he can feel how to reach deeper, pushes his hand farther inside. And Hux can feel it now, the curve of intestines, the too-soft tremble against his fingers, the pulse of heat and life. And he's never felt close to someone like this, never been able to, even in the few times he's found his way into a pretty man's bed. Because this is something different.

Kylo is crying. 

But when Hux asks him if he's alright, asks him what's going on, he takes a deep breath, whimpers out an answer. 

“It just... fuck... Hux. So good... so incredible. Keep going... more...” And he's panting too hard now to keep talking, but Hux strokes along inside him, pushes soft fingers slow and kind into the yielding curve under his hand. It's incredible, amazing, everything warm and slick, and pulsing around him. He's muttering now, Kylo's name and endless refrain, and he knows he has to stop, has to pull his hands away and seal the wound. 

But he doesn't want to. 

Only Kylo's face is paler now, even as his lips twist in a smile, as he moans in pleasure. And Hux pulls his hands away, blood red and dripping. He's sealing the slice, dripping bacta inside in a steady stream. Kylo winces at the sharp sting of the ointment, at the fizz as the edges of the cut knit together. And Hux wishes he was still inside, that he could bury himself in Kylo and never come out. Now the bandages are tight around Kylo's abs, he's sitting up, gulping from the cup of nutrient sludge that Hux holds to his lips. And Hux is crawling onto the table with Kylo, wrapping himself around the taller man. And he rests a hand on the bandages, imagines how it felt with a hand inside. 

There's a brush of lips against his forehead, and he knows that Kylo is curving forward, brushing a blood stained mouth against Hux's hair. And Hux can't even bring himself to care, because this is his now. Kylo is his, and he wraps himself tighter around the knight, holds him closer. There are a few hours before the start of his next shift. He can enjoy this a little longer.


End file.
